Comfort
by only.a.small.fish
Summary: Aragorn aches for comfort after the death of Mithrandir, but when it finds him, it's different from what he expected.


**AN:**

 **This is my first time writing smut as graphic as this, and I kind of feel like I don't know what I'm doing. I tried to do the best I could and I hope you find it to be enjoyable. If anything is wildly inaccurate or makes readers uncomfortable, do not hesitate to let me know.**

* * *

The blood red sun was setting into a golden vat of light and pink clouds, casting it's final rays over the rocks of Dimrill Dale. A dwarf crouched next to a fire pit, dousing the sputtering flame with dirt and filling the air with grey smoke that turned to violet in the dusky haze. About him, two men, four hobbits and an elf occupied themselves with the nighttime preparations of cleaning up camp. Their supper had been meager and their fire small, but they helped each other regardless. With movements like clockwork, they opened their packs and pulled bedrolls, blankets and mats into the swiftly chilling air. They worked diligently and purposefully, but without speaking. The usual chatter and occasional laughter of the merry band was nonexistent and the air between them was heavy with grief. Eyes glassed over to hide deep sadness watched hands of different sizes unroll small bundles and smooth wrinkles carefully.

Eight of the company there were, but nine had set out from Rivendell. Gandalf had perished in the mines, cut down by the dreaded Balrog of Moria. Not one of them had not been shaken to the core, and most of them wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground, but their quest could not halt. Though he wanted to dearly, Aragorn had spoken no words of comfort to his comrades. Instead, he watched as they sullenly prepared their beds, excepting Gimli who had volunteered for first watch. As Aragorn glanced around him, he noticed how far apart the fellowship's beds were; Merry and Pippin had set up near a small boulder, Sam was laying his bed next to his master's near the fire, Boromir had planted himself nearly six meters away from everyone else and Legolas was in the process of inspecting a tear in his blanket on the opposite side of the fire.

Aragorn suddenly felt an immense loneliness cut through him as he stood by his chosen section of ground. Though he was surrounded by the others, they felt very far from him and, if he was being true to himself, he ached for comfort. A sudden idea sparked in his mind and within moments, he had a logical way of translating it into words.

"We shouldn't have our beds so for apart," he said loudly, drawing the attention of everyone who looked up from their tasks to listen. He suddenly felt very awkward and continued hastily.

"There are still orcs about and it will be easier for them to ambush us if we're separated." The others contemplated this for a moment before nodding in agreement or voicing their thoughts to the one closest to them. They all agreed that it was probably safest to sleep closer together. Each of them began to slide his bed over to where Aragorn's lay beside his pack, separating each one by a foot or two. The configuration of their bedrolls was still similar to how they had been positioned before; Merry and Pippin, Sam and Frodo together and Boromir more or less on his own. However, Legolas brought his bedroll beside Aragorn, much to the ranger's surprise. What astonished him more though, was when he noticed how close together Legolas had placed them.

He watched as the elf straightened out the corners of his blanket, oblivious to the gaze that fell upon him. The dying light illuminated his eyelashes, pointed downwards towards his task. They looked so soft and were so long that Aragorn wondered how he could have possibly never noticed such a phenomenon before. They suddenly flashed with movement and were obscured by a wash of shimmering gold as Legolas stood, leaning forward slightly.

Aragorn's eyes slid along the smooth motion of Legolas' back as he stood, watching the swish of his hair as it fell back into place. His gaze followed Legolas' waist, his hips as he walked towards Gimli by the fire. Aragorn caught his breath for a moment when he bent over to speak to the dwarf.

Aragorn knew of his hidden attraction well, and how deeply it ran, but he was unaccustomed to it coming in such sudden bursts of want. With great hesitation and, admittedly some force, he tore his eyes away from the subject of his thoughts. Swallowing heavily, he carded his fingers over his forehead and through the roots of his hair, letting out a long, strained breath.

His gaze wandered to the west where the sky was painted with a sweeping stretch of colour. A vast pink cloud hung over the sun, speckled gold and orange in places with a furious red in the center. Glancing behind himself, he gathered that all was in order at camp and that his disappearance would not be missed if he only left for a moment. Turning back to the beauty of Eru's painting in the sky, he jumped over some loose rocks and started his path toward the clouds. Unbeknownst to Aragorn, a pair of eyes, piercing and sharp followed him as he disappeared behind a boulder.

Legolas watched Aragorn's silhouette, a shadowy black against the fading backdrop of the sky. A breeze fluttered through his hair, the cool air lifting it weightlessly and lacing its cool fingers around the soft skin of his neck. The elf touched Gimli's shoulder gently, drawing the dwarf's attention as he stood. Gimli looked up, watching Legolas turn and begin to follow Aragorn, his cloak fluttering.

"Where're you going?" he demanded, standing up with some difficulty. Legolas turned his head to see Gimli puffing along to catch up with him and his long strides. The elf smiled.

"I am going to speak with Aragorn," Legolas said, looking down at his stout friend. "We must discuss our new plan of action." Gimli suddenly looked very determined, his eyes glittering beneath his bushy eyebrows.

"Planning without your key consultant? Aye, I won't hear of it!" he exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips in hefty fists. Legolas laughed, a very beautiful sound, and crouched a little, placing his long hand on Gimli's shoulder.

"My friend, as much as we value your dwarvish expertise in planning battle, Aragorn and I must have this discussion alone," he said. Gimli harrumphed, but complied.

"Alright. But next time I get a say!" he said fiercely. Legolas beamed again, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Absolutely."

Legolas rose again, smiling, and turned back to where Aragorn had disappeared to. With long steps and lightly placed leaps, he too vanished behind the boulder.

Stepping down over a tiny trickle of water, Legolas looked out ahead of him, scanning the horizon for the telltale shape of the ranger. It did not take him long to spot the tall black shape of the company's leader, sitting on the edge of a rocky crag overlooking the valley. The prince smiled softly, a careful smile he only allowed show when he thought fondly of the future king.

As he approached Aragorn quietly from behind, his heart began to pound, as it always did when he was alone with the man. He was only a few feet behind the ranger when, without turning his head, Aragorn spoke.

"A, Legolas.*"

Legolas laughed lightly, ceasing his attempt at stealth. He stepped effortlessly over the last few rocks separating him from Aragorn and plopped down beside him, throwing his legs over the edge of the small cliff.

"Manen ando istaennas návë*?" Legolas inquired. Aragorn kept his eyes glued on the sunset, but allowed a small smile to slip into his face.

"You may be elfkind, Legolas, but light on your feet as you are, you are not noiseless," he said. Legolas grinned.

"Perhaps I should practice my ranger-stalking abilities," he replied, swinging his legs back and forth playfully. Aragorn chuckled briefly in the back of his throat, but it died soon after and his face became solemn.

The light about them was gold, shimmering and pure but with the whisper of winter chill. Though the breeze was soft, it picked up strands of Legolas' hair that it tossed about in an elegantly random dance of golden threads. A misty colour very similar to that of daylilies bounced off the clouds, illuminating soft skin to crystalline porcelain. Delicate ears turned into blushing translucent leaves in the light, not so different in shape from the plants themselves.

An inhale of breath reverberated through Aragorn's weary bones, making a soft noise. Legolas' smile faded to a neutral expression as he crossed one leg over the other, placing an elbow on his knee and resting his head in his hand. His palm pressed into his ear and, slowly, his hair fell in a scattered waterfall that swung in random places as he watched Aragorn's face. He watched the way his face moved ever-so-slightly with each breath, the way the curls of his hair fluttered occasionally, the soft movement of his eyelashes as they pressed down in his wind-burnt cheek with every blink.

Tentatively, Legolas reached out a slender hand; white, long and soft. He tried to calm himself as it covered one of a sturdier make; tanned, weathered and scarred by toil and travel. He watched it with anxious eyes, waiting for it to pull away, but it did not. After a few moments, the fingers did the opposite. Curling themselves around his own digits, Legolas' heart skipped as he felt the warmth of Aragorn's hand bond with his own.

"Your hand is shaking," Aragorn said softly, he too looking down at their hands. Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but his voice caught and he stifled it, resulting in a red tinge dusting his ears and along the sides of his cheekbones.

"I-is it?" he managed, his mind finally computing. Instead of replying, Aragorn lifted his hand upwards, only giving Legolas a moment to register before he placed his lips against it. They only brushed the back of Legolas' hand, but it was enough to send the elf spiralling bashfully out of his usual serene state.

Aragorn finally looked up into Legolas' face and was astonished by what he saw. Raising his free hand, he touched Legolas' cheek gently, as if he was made of glass.

"You are blushing, mellon nin," he said quietly, mesmerized by the smooth softness of the prince's skin. This only succeeded in making Legolas blush more, especially with the ranger's hand upon his face. Aragorn suddenly had a thought and drew his hand away from Legolas' face quickly, curling his fingers back and wearing an expression of mortification.

"Forgive me!" he exclaimed. "I have no right to touch you in such a way."

Legolas stared at him in surprise, his face feeling cold and empty without the warm touch of the ranger's hand. Aragorn looked positively horrified for a moment and then his face fell into something very miserable, but Legolas was so flustered he said nothing and simply stared at him, his face still as red as the dying sun.

"Please do not be angry, I meant no harm," Aragorn pleaded. He was terribly angry at himself and horrified by his own actions. He had simply gone too far and ruined everything.

"Estel..." Legolas said finally, the word barely a whisper. Aragorn looked into his eyes, the ranger's own wide and vulnerable. Legolas took the hand that had fallen from his cheek and returned it to where it had been, but making it cup his face; much to Aragorn's astonishment.

"Estel, I'm anything but angry," he said, somehow managing to regain some of his composure. The ranger looked from his own hand to Legolas bright, hopeful eyes and it was his turn to blush. The wise lines in the man's face smoothed themselves as his cheeks flooded with colour and his grey eyes lit up to a bristling silver.

"What...what are you saying?" the Dúnadan asked hesitantly, willing the fire in his cheeks to douse. Legolas wanted nothing more than to respond with the magic phrase, the beautifully terrible words that gnawed at him every day. He wanted to scream it out to the world and to whisper it into his beloved's ear, to write it in the sky and seal it in a secret letter, to wear it on his brow for all to see and to tuck it away inside his breast forevermore. But it was not time.

"I am saying many things, ranger of the North," he said. Aragorn squeezed his hand and he felt his eyelashes flutter in the tiniest way, his heart pounding with deafening booms in his chest. Although he himself was trembling, he could feel Aragorn's own shakiness beneath his fingertips, and it thrilled him.

"Things I have hidden away from the world," Legolas said, moving Aragorn's hand from his cheek and pressing it flush against his chest, right over his heart. Aragorn inhaled sharply; Legolas' heart was racing just as fast as his was.

"Do not be afraid to touch me, Estel," Legolas whispered, rubbing Aragorn's fingers with his own. In return, Aragorn took the hand he clasped so tightly and placed it against his own chest, permitting the elf to know how his heart leapt about.

"I too have hidden things," Aragorn said, his voice barely above a whisper. "May...may I show you?"

Legolas barely managed a nod, keeping his eyes glued to Aragorn's face. He stopped breathing as Aragorn leaned forward, his breath right beside his ear. The ranger was still blushing, but that did not stop him from his determination and Legolas hadn't the faintest idea of what he was about to do.

Aragorn exhaled onto the skin just below the elf's ear, causing the tiny hairs to stand on end. He brushed the end of his nose against the spot, closing his eyes. Then, bringing his mouth closer to it, Aragorn placed his lips gently on the pale skin. Legolas' eyes fluttered shut and his lips separated slightly, his hand contracting on the Dúnadan's chest, scrunching the fabric beneath his fingers. Aragorn pulled away briefly before placing another kiss just below the first which was followed by another. Three kisses, all in a line, leaving Legolas in a shuddering, blushing mess.

"E-Estel," he stuttered, moving his head back, his hair falling off his shoulders. His breathing had become short and fast, only now did Aragorn realize this. He drew back and looked at Legolas in amazement. His pupils dilated, his eyelids heavy, his lips parted, Legolas was nearly ready to collapse.

Aragorn had been with lovers before, lovers both elf and man, male and female. He thought he had seen desperate people before, aching people; but never had he ever before brought someone to this state with mere kisses.

"Legolas, mellon nin, are you alright?" he inquired carefully, cupping Legolas' jaw delicately. Legolas nodded eagerly and drew himself towards Aragorn, his hands clutching at the ranger's tunic.

"Please, do not stop," he pleaded. "Do not stop, Estel."

Swallowing heavily, the future king of Gondor nodded. He moved his head back to where it had been before and placed his lips once more against the elf's pure skin. Legolas gripped Aragorn's tunic, keening into his body and clutching at the only solid thing he could find. His head tossed backwards, exposing his neck to ease Aragorn's access.

The ranger was forcing himself to contain his true desires, his own desperate need in order to be gentle. He was trying so very hard to be gentle, but the soft gasps and pleading noises that Legolas made were too much. No longer able to restrain himself, he wrapped his arms around Legolas' abdomen and drew him closer, tilting his neck even farther and causing Legolas to moan aloud. This only fueled Aragorn's nearly animalistic need and his assault became all the more fierce. He began to suck at the skin on Legolas' neck, swiping at it with his tongue and with the occasional nip of teeth. Legolas jutted himself into Aragorn's embrace as the ranger abused the delicate skin of his neck, biting his lip.

"Estel-" he moaned, pushing his chest against Aragorn. "Este-Ah!"

Aragorn had slid his hand down to the base of Legolas' spine and groped at the elf's arse. This new form of contact caused Legolas to just about force himself onto Aragorn's lap, pulling his neck away from the euphoric onslaught Aragorn's mouth placed upon it. For a moment, Aragorn thought that he had gone too far, but that thought was snuffed instantly when Legolas crushed their lips together and began kissing him desperately.

Their lips locked together and they kissed passionately, heatedly. Aragorn ran his tongue along the edge of Legolas' lip, requesting entry, which Legolas granted eagerly. Legolas pushed himself against Aragorn, moving about in his lap, moaning into the kiss as he allowed Aragorn to suck at his tongue. Lacing his fingers into the silken locks of Legolas' hair, Aragorn cupped the back of the elf's head, running his fingers over the bones of Legolas' jaw and brushing against the small indentation at the base of his skull. As he ran his hands through Legolas' hair, he accidentally brushed the tip of the elf's sensitive ear, sending sensually tingling shivers down Legolas' spine.

"Ah!" Legolas cried, pulling away from Aragorn slightly and granting him a glimpse at his features. The prince's face was flushed and his eyes were encompassed by adoration, love and lust. His lips were plush and red, shining with the remnants of their kiss. If the sounds that escaped Legolas' throat were too much, then Aragorn didn't know what seeing Legolas in such a state did to him. He could feel his sex pushing against the tight strain of his leggings, but when he felt Legolas' response as it pressed against him, his groin began to ache. Legolas began to kiss him again, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Estel, oh Estel," Legolas gasped between kisses, clasping either sides of Aragorn's face. Aragorn reached up to unlatch Legolas' cloak, ignoring it as it fluttered out of his grasp and to the ground. Pushing Legolas' hair over one shoulder, he began to unlace the carefully tied strings of the elf's tunic. He tugged it from side to side until the lacings became loose and it slid down Legolas' arm, exposing his bare shoulder. For a moment, he ceased undressing the elf that perched on his lap and reached up once more to hold Legolas' cheeks.

"May I?" he asked softly, rubbing his thumb over Legolas' cheekbone. Legolas nodded and pulled away slightly, looking down to begin undoing his belt. Tugging at the leather, he slid it out of the silver metal ring that held it snug around his waist. Discarding the belt, the loose fabric of his tunic hung off his slender frame like a nightshirt that looked far too big for him, sliding off his shoulder the way it was. It slipped forward as he kissed Aragorn once more, lifting himself off the ranger's lap to balance on his kneecaps. Sliding his hands up the outside of Legolas' thighs, Aragorn pushed his fingers up underneath the loose tunic, hooking his fingers in the waistband of the prince's leggings. Pulling them down over Legolas' arse, he began to push them down, revealing the elf's long creamy legs to the chilling air.

Aragorn found himself blushing when the tip of Legolas' eagerness touched his midriff through their shirts, but it did not halt his hands. He began to tug off Legolas' boots, tossing them off to the side where they joined his belt on the ground. Then, working his hands expertly, he managed to pull the supple leggings from Legolas' body. Sliding his hands up the sides of the prince's abdomen, he pulled the loose tunic with him as it bunched around his wrists. For a brief moment, Legolas' face disappeared behind a wall of faded green fabric as Aragorn pulled the tunic over his head, but when he emerged he was blushing even more profusely.

The shock of cool air hitting his skin shook Legolas, but the heat of their passion quickly warmed him. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind that made him examine the situation

He was seated, completely bare, in Aragorn's lap and was suddenly feeling very exposed. He hadn't prepared himself for such an emotion and was feeling terribly inferior and feeble. Compared to Aragorn, who -even dressed in the weathered clothes of a ranger- looked regal, masculine and strong, he felt like nothing more than the thin whisp of a maiden or perhaps a young boy cowering in the shadow of such a kingly man.

Legolas pulled away for a moment, but it was enough time for Aragorn to register the discomfort and vulnerability he saw in the elf's eyes. He pulled off his own cloak and spread it out on the ground the best he could, drawing Legolas' wary eyes. However, he quickly drew them back when he placed his hand against Legolas' cheek and kissed him long and hard. With their lips still connected, he began to lower Legolas gently onto his cloak, being careful not to drop him. The patch of ground beneath the cloak was mossy and presented itself as a cushy mattress against Legolas' back. Moving away from the lips he'd craved for so long, Aragorn pulled back to sit on his haunches and began to strip himself of what hid him amongst the trees and another pile of clothes joined Legolas' beside them. Aragorn turned back to the elf that lay below him and caught his breath.

Legolas' long, pale form was exquisitely beautiful. Far beyond anything Aragorn's desperate mind could have conjured. Muscles pushing subtlety against pale skin, delicate curves in all the right places and a blush that illuminated him to a rosy glow. His heart racing, he moved in between Legolas' legs and pressed his lips against the base of Legolas' neck.

As Aragorn's body began to press itself against his own, Legolas fell in love again a thousand times over with the feeling; with the gentle, almost starstruck way Isildur's heir kissed him. He wanted to revel in it for eternity under the stars of Varda. But when he felt Aragorn's stiff arousal brush against the soft inside of his thigh, he was swiftly reminded of what was to come and was suddenly overwhelmed by a ravaging need for it. He threw his arms around Aragorn' neck and looked into his eyes.

"Estel, I need it," he said breathlessly. Aragorn's eyes glassed with confusion for a moment and he opened his mouth to inquire, but Legolas cut him off.

"Estel, please," he urged, knowing he was spouting nonsense. But nonsense, love and need were all he knew in that moment and were all he seemed able to say.

"I need it, please," he begged, pushing himself against Aragorn's body pleadingly. The confusion that had passed through Aragorn' mind suddenly clicked into understanding and he blushed slightly. However, he nodded, bending down to kiss Legolas carefully. Once he drew away, he looked into Legolas' eyes and the elf sensed that some concern had crossed their stormy path.

"What is it?" he asked, feeling fearfully impatient. Aragorn looked about them briefly before turning back to speak.

"I haven't anything to ease... _it_ ," he admitted, the expression on his face similar to one of a small child who'd been caught stealing biscuits. Legolas looked at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, only causing Aragorn's face to become panicked.

"What?" he asked fervently. Legolas continued to laugh as he sat up, his legs still on either side of Aragorn's waist. He chuckled as he planted a kiss to Aragorn's astonished lips, placing his arms on his shoulders and letting them hang behind him.

"Aragorn, my darling," Legolas laughed, pulling away. "Do you think I'm some kind of virgin?" The ranger immediately became mortified and extremely embbarassed, but despite the babbling that began to tumble from his mouth, could hardly make sense of himself. Unfortunately for him, this only made Legolas laughed all the harder.

"Estel! Estel!" he said, trying to speak through his laughs, placing a hand onto Aragorn's face.

"What?" Aragorn asked, his eyes slightly terrified that he'd done something completely wrong. Legolas chuckled and stroked Aragorn's face, looking at him with adoration.

"Meleth nin, check the pouch attached to my belt," he supplied. Aragorn looked over his shoulder, spotted the shiny buckle and reached for it. Pulling towards himself, he undid the clasp holding the supple leather pouch closed. Peering into it, he saw a number of things: a brush, a package of Lembas, arrow tips, some blue ribbon, a round stone and...an unmistakable vial of oil. Taking it up in his hand, he replaced the pouch to its spot on the ground. Holding up the bottle between their faces, he looked into Legolas' expectantly. With a playful grin and a knowing look, Legolas nodded.

Suddenly, Aragorn found himself attached quite intensely to Legolas' lips as the elf lowered the two of them back down, kissing him passionately. Aragorn obliged him as he began to uncork the vial and coated his fingers. He broke away from Legolas breathlessly.

"Tell me if it hurts," he murmured, placing one of his slick fingers against Legolas' entrance. The prince nodded and braced himself. Slowly, Aragorn pushed his finger into Legolas' tightness, eliciting a strained groan from the elf's lips. Once he was inside as far as he could go, he curled the end of his fingers slightly, causing Legolas to gasp quite audibly. He lifted himself off the ground in a little way, keening into Aragorn's hand. Being very careful, Aragorn pulled his hand back, but didn't remove his finger. Legolas' breath became more rapid, more shallow and he pressed his fingers into where he gripped Aragorn's shoulders.

Aragorn added a second finger and pushed back in, drawing a high-pitched moan from the elegant creature below him. Twisting his fingers around, he began moving them away from each other in a scissoring motion. Legolas groaned, pushing himself more into Aragorn's touch as the ranger added yet another digit. He slicked the inside of Legolas' channel and stretched him as far as he dared before pulling his fingers out.

Moving back a fraction, he looked down at Legolas. Panting and stretched, he awaited for Aragorn to prepare himself, but the look in his eyes told the ranger that he didn't have long. Reaching for the bottle again, Aragorn poured some out over his palm and began to apply it to his throbbing arousal. The much-wanted contact on his sex caught him off guard and made him pause, sighing at the feeling. He drew his hand up and down his cock, groaning under his breath and trying to prevent himself getting lost. He shuddered when he forced himself to remove his hand, once he was effectively coated in the slick lubricant. He placed a hand on Legolas' hip and used the other to stroke the curve of his waist, attempting to soothe the prince.

"Tell me to stop..." he stated, his voice heavy with lust, "...if I'm hurting you." Legolas nodded fervently, urging Aragorn to continue, that there was no need for words.

Aragorn began slowly, carefully pushing himself into Legolas' channel, gasping aloud at how tightly Legolas constricted around him. Legolas let out a long, languid moan, arching his back off the ground as Aragorn pushed his length up to the hilt. One of Aragorn's hands gripped Legolas' hip with oiled fingers as the other pressed itself flush against the small of his back, almost forcing him upwards more while holding him stable. The fingers pressing into the pale flesh of Legolas' soft hip loosened for a moment when Aragorn began to pull himself backwards. Then, they pressed back down harder as the ranger thrust forwards.

"Estel!" Legolas cried, grabbing at Aragorn's arm to steady himself. Aragorn drew out again and thrust, pushing in and out with increasing speed. He leant forward, pressing hot kisses to Legolas' neck and down his chest. Legolas' cries and moans of pleasure began to occur more frequently, and with less time between until they were nearly mimics of his panting breath. Aragorn's own breathing was ragged, and groans often accompanied the hot breath escaping his lips. Aragorn caught a glimpse of Legolas' neglected cock, twitching and seeping with precum between them. He took one hand away from Legolas' smooth body and grasped his cock. At the surprising unexpected contact, Legolas' breath exploded out of him in a throaty gasp and his eyelids fluttered against his flushed cheek.

"Lá! Lá!*" he exclaimed, moving his hips in motion with Aragorn's rhythm. The beginnings of his essence started to trickle over the ranger's moving hand, making it sticky; but he did not stop. The movements of his hand began to align with the thrusts of his hips. He brought Legolas closer to him, close enough to gain access once again to his neck, but instead of the now delightfully bruised skin, he scraped his teeth along the edge of Legolas' pointed ear. Legolas cried out, thrusting himself against Aragorn's stiff form. Though the angle was different, the ranger thrust in once again, with both his mouth and hands occupied and his beautiful elf crying out in sheer pleasure. Aragorn lowered Legolas back to the ground, the elf's arms wrapped around him as they rocked back and forth, his hair splayed about him like a magnificent halo. Then, with one extreme push, Aragorn found Legolas' core and he saw stars. Exclaiming in a clear voice, Legolas' seed spilled white over Aragorn's hand and his own stomach. Aragorn, who had been teetering on the edge of climax, was sent tumbling after Legolas, driven by the euphoric sound the elf created. His own orgasm followed shortly after, slipping from his lips in a loud moan as he filled Legolas with hot come.

The future king of Gondor fell forward, his head falling onto Legolas' heaving chest as his hand fell away from the elf's spent cock. Closing his eyes, he slowly began to draw his length out of the beauty below him, while Legolas moaned quietly. Crawling up to lay next to Thranduil's son, Aragorn reached behind himself and groped blindly along the ground until he found the edge of Legolas' cloak. He dragged it over top of Legolas, being careful to tuck the elf prince in before pulling it up over himself. Legolas smiled softly as he felt Aragorn's now so gentle hands caress him lovingly, adoringly. He reached out and pulled Aragorn close to him, placing the ranger's head against his breast where he began to run his fingers through his dark hair. Aragorn snuggled up against Legolas, absorbing his warmth and sleepiness.

They lay in silence under the stars, peacefully admiring the constellations that had blossomed above in the shimmering of Varda's garden, enveloped in each other's embrace. After a few minutes, just as Aragorn was was slipping into slumber, Legolas spoke aloud.

"That was...unexpected," he said, his voice hesitant. He'd fantasized, imagined and dreamt of having Aragorn in his arms, to be taken by the man, and though none of them could compare to the reality, he hadn't the faintest idea of what to say. He stared up at the sky, fearing that Aragorn would say something awful or, worse, nothing at all.

He certainly wasn't expecting a peal of deep laughter. Aragorn lifted his head from Legolas' chest, the elf's hand slithering down his shoulder as he looked down into his confused eyes.

"Unexpected indeed!" Aragorn laughed. He swooped down to kiss Legolas swiftly, laughing. When he moved away, he gazed down at the elf prince and let out an audible sigh, reaching out a hand to tuck a lock of mussed hair behind Legolas' delicate ear. They smiled in sync, sharing the light of their hearts through their eyes and ignoring the disheveled appearance of the other.

"You're beautiful," Aragorn said simply, caressing the elegant cheekbones of his lover's face. Despite himself, Legolas blushed, reaching out to stroke Aragorn's arm gently.

"Though I am told that more often than I care to admit," Legolas replied. "It has never truly mattered to me until now." He sat up and placed his hand against Aragorn's jaw, his long hair falling in shimmering waves over his bare body, shining like ivory in the moonlight. He looked into Aragorn's deep eyes and pressed captured his lips delicately.

Unlike the passionate, needy kisses they'd exchanged, the warmth was magical. Moving his lips slowly, Legolas caressed Aragorn's face, his neck, his shoulders. He poured all his love and his being into Aragorn through their lips. The ranger returned by cupping the back of his head and holding him close, wrapping Legolas in an embrace that protected him from all the grief of the outside world. Legolas pulled his lips away and gazed up at Aragorn, his blush fading but still present. He pondered some of the thoughts that had crossed his mind earlier, though it seemed like years ago, and decided that it was time. Time for the thought that pounded at his very soul day in and day out.

"I love you," he said quietly. Aragorn's eyes widened but then transformed into a radiant smile.

"*Amin mela lle," he murmured back, nuzzling his nose against Legolas' neck.

"Amin mela lle."

* * *

Gimli glared at Legolas from across the fire, his bowl of breakfast seated untouched at his feet. Legolas slid his spoon out of his mouth and looked up, starting a little when he noticed the dwarf's intent stare. Glancing from side to side, Legolas searched for a sign that the other members of the fellowship understood what was happening, but they were all equally occupied with their own breakfast. Looking hesitantly back at Gimli, whose position had not moved, he raised his eyebrows with trepidation.

"What?" he asked. Gimli simply lowered his eyebrows and grunted in response.

"What?" Legolas tried again, becoming exasperated. Gimli rolled his eyes and bent to pick up his bowl.

"You should ask Strider to be gentler when making battle plans, I could hear you two from camp."

The entire fellowship turned to stare at Legolas and Aragorn, whose faces went beet red. Boromir stuttered out what were trying to be words, but Gimli beat him to it. Standing he walked past the shocked faces of his comrades and patted a mortified Legolas on the shoulder.

"And you might want to put something on those bruises." he whispered, though in a fashion so that everyone could hear. Legolas' face went, if possible, even redder and he looked straight down into his bowl as Gimli sauntered away, humming a merry tune.

* * *

A, Legolas - Hi, Legolas  
Manen anda istaennas návë - How long did you know I was there?  
Lá - Yes  
Amin mela lle - I love you


End file.
